


When the Levee Breaks (Led Zeppelin)

by Clitler



Series: Destiel Playlist [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Disassociation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Really Effed up and Creepy, Sam-Centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 07:51:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13209267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clitler/pseuds/Clitler
Summary: After 'Passive'Anything else is spoilers





	When the Levee Breaks (Led Zeppelin)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm trying to get this posted before work  
> Sorry for any typos  
> Please listen to the song while you read, if you can

When the Levee Breaks (Led Zeppelin)

            “ ** _Sammy!!_** ” the voice of his brother echoes through the halls of the first true home Sam has ever known.  That wasn’t true.  _Dean_ was the first and only real home he’s ever known, the one he carried with him, through every aborted pubescent runaway attempt, through the smoldering remains of his best hope for normalcy, through every minor tiff and major rift in his relationship with the last piece of family he had left.

 

            _If it keep’s on rainin’, levee’s going to break_

_If it keep’s on rainin’, levee’s going to break_

            “Sam,” the voice of his best friend is high and reedy, but carries just as well as his brother’s.  Sam heaves a defeated sob into his fist, balled up and jammed in his mouth to keep any moans from escaping.  It wasn’t working, but never let it be said that Sam Winchester gave up on a Bad Idea until it had completely ruined him.  Now, where was he?  Oh yes, trying to remove his own penis by rubbing it off with almost constant masturbation.

 

            _Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan_

_Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan_

_Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home, oh well, oh well, oh well_

Sam strokes his sore cock as he contemplates everything that brought him to this moment.  That’s not true.  He’s contemplating joining the only two people who matter to him on their joint expedition to insanity.  He’s picturing what they’re getting up to down the hall in his room.  Not ten minutes ago, Dean had strutted past him where he was hunkered down: the floor across from Dean’s room, where he’d spent the last hour trying to decide if it would benefit anyone to lock himself in there with Dean’s things and let himself starve to death until Dean got bored and fucked off.  Dean had laughed as he walked past, Castiel, former Angel of the Lord and rumored Hammer of Heavenly Fury TM, crawling on all fours behind him in nothing but poor, dead Jimmy Novak’s blue tie.

 

  _Don’t it make you feel bad?_

_When you’re trying to find your way home you don’t know which way to go?_

_When you’re going down South and there’s no work to do_

_And you’re going on to Chicago_

Sam drops his dick.  It’s pointless, anyway.  He’s coming dry at this stage in the proceedings and it just hurts.  The thumping beat of Dean’s favorite Zeppelin songs are starting to make his jaw ache, as they’re being fed directly into his brain from his demonic (literally) older brother.  Or maybe that’s the phantom ache of years of fantasizing about sucking Dean’s thick cock.

 

            _Cryin’ won’t help you_

_Prayin’ won’t do you no good, no_

            _Cryin’ won’t help you_

_Prayin’ won’t do you no good_

            _When the levee breaks, mama you got to go_

            “ ** _Oh shit, Sammy, you oughta see this!  Got almost my whole damn fist in here!_** ” Dean’s exulted cries are nearly drowned out by Cas’ wanton moans.  Sam tries slamming his head against the cement wall again.  It still doesn’t work.  He’s still hard.  He’s still hopeless.

 

            _All last night, sat on the levee and moaned_

_All last night, sat on the levee and moaned_

_Thinking bout my baby and my happy home_

 

            Grunting, Sam levers himself up the wall to standing and tries to pull his pants up, but stops when he realizes his boxer briefs are thoroughly soaked in come.  He shucks the whole works and stands looking at Dean’s bed in nothing but his t shirt.  He’d lost the arm sling somewhere between his third and fourth orgasm, when he’d moved up here, to the last place he could remember seeing Dean smiling before his world collapsed under its own weight.

 

            _Going-going to Chicago_

_Going to Chicago_

_Sorry, but I can’t take you_

Sam strips his sweaty shirt off and lets it drop on top his pants and boots, wincing only a little at the pull to his left arm.  It doesn’t matter now.  None of that matters.  He’s done so many horrible things in his life, a little bit of pain in one arm is hardly karmic justice.  His justice waits for him ten feet away, behind the closed but unlocked door to his erstwhile bedroom, where the brother he’s lusted after ever since he knew what his dick was for and the most noble being he’s ever had the privilege of calling ‘friend’ are currently calling for him to complete their unholy union.

 

            “ ** _Such a fucking drama queen!_**   ‘ ** _Unholy union’, yeesh! You sound like a B movie trailer, Sammy_** ,” Dean calls out as Cas yelps and curses, grumbling at him to ‘be careful, Dean, I can’t heal _everything_ ’.  Sam walks steadily on, hand reaching the doorknob before he quite realizes he wasn’t _actually_ headed to the kitchen to find a knife to slit his wrists.  He shudders out his last breath as a mostly-decent human being and turns the knob.  The door swings open smoothly, thanks to Dean’s latent homeowner tendencies and ‘just a video on Youtube, Sam, not like it’s rocket surgery’.  Sam swallows a sob as he steps over the threshold. 

 

_Going down-Going down, now_

            _Going down-Going down, now_

_Going down-Going down, now_

_Going down_

_Going dow-, dow-, dow-, down, now_

 

            Dean is walking around the end of the bed, wiping his hand on one of Sam’s plaid shirts, the teal and black one he liked the best because it been washed so often and was consequently soft as a cloud.  He has a feeling he won’t be wearing any clothes in the foreseeable future.  Dean grins over at him at that idea and Sam can almost pretend his brother is truly happy.  “Oh, fuck me _runnin’_ , Sammy! I _am_ happy.  Now that you’re here, everything is perfect,” Dean laughs lightly.  “Lookin’ a little subpar there, little brother.  Hey, angel, you got enough Grace left you can fix Sammy’s arm?”

 

            Castiel is on his stomach on the bed, looking for all the world like he’s passed out, but at the mention of ‘angel’, he lifts his head to smile back at Dean.  “I believe so,” he offers as he gets up on his knees, ignoring the stream of come and lube that trickles out of his ass at the change in position.  His dick is fully erect as he beckons Sam over to him, “Come here, Sam.”  Sam walks over to his friend on numb feet, his abused dick twitching in unwelcome interest.  Cas lays both hands on Sam’s broad chest, stroking across its expanse and humming low in his throat, a sweet, satisfied sound that breaks Sam’s heart just that little bit more.  “Sam. Sammy. Little Sammy Winchester, the once and future king, how wonderful,” Castiel murmurs, his face split in an awful grin.  Dean mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘that wasn’t very nice, Sam’ from the other side of the bed, where he’s finally taking the rest of his clothes off.  He’s also just as hard as Cas.

 

            “Duh, Sam. Demon powers, hello?” Dean rolls his eyes as he chucks his red button up behind him, “HEY!” he shouts, startling Cas in his worship of Sam’s pecs, “I said fix his arm, not edge him! Fuck, baby, can’t you follow a simple direction?” Cas makes a pouty face at Sam before he latches onto a nipple, biting down almost hard enough to hurt and grabs Sam’s left shoulder in an icy grip.  Sam hisses in a breath at the simultaneous stimulation to his nipple and the cold rush of relief that washes down his arm.  “See?” Dean crows, grinning at Sam over Cas’ back, “Was that so hard?”  Castiel licks an apology across the nipple he’s been gnawing on and Sam’s brain catches up a little.

 

            “Cas?” he asks brokenly, “Did you call me-“ Cas has made his way down Sam’s stomach, Dean still leering behind him, now stroking up the angel’s back, “-ah, uh…fu-ck!” and Cas swallows him down from tip to base, in one smooth move.  He braces on Sam’s right thigh with one hand, rolling his balls in the other and just like that, Sam’s fully hard again, like he hasn’t come in weeks, leaking down his best friend’s throat and good fucking God is it amazing!  So tight and Christ, _hot_ , inside Cas’ mouth, his tongue swirling, throat working to fit Sam’s larger-than-average (I’ll fucking say, Dean huffs) dick as far down as it will go.  Sam doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so they end up fluttering helplessly about two inches over Cas’ bobbing head. 

 

            “Just fucking-,” Dean grabs both of Sam’s hands and buries them in Cas’ black hair, forcing his fingers to grip onto the thick locks and Cas moans around Sam’s dick.  Sam throws his head back and tries to keep his knees from buckling under the onslaught, “-grab ‘im, Sammy, fuck his mouth.  He loves it, don’t ya, baby?”  Cas moans and sinks back down.  That’s not true.  Sam _pushes_ him back down, all the way, until Cas’ nose is buried in his untrimmed bush (What’s the point of manscaping if you never get laid, Dean mutters).

 

_Cryin’ won’t help you_

            _Prayin’ won’t do you no good_

 

            “God, De, change the fucking song,” Sam growls as he watches Cas eat him alive.

 

            “What song?” Dean asks, but Sam isn’t listening past the sounds of slurping and sucking and Cas whining.  “Ha, he’s beggin’ me to fuck him again.  Can you believe this little cockslut was hiding in there the whole damn time?”  Dean watches Sam’s face break apart as the angel takes him apart, his little brother now rocking his hips in time with his hands pulling Jimmy Novak’s mouth down around his cock.  “Wait,” full stop, it’s magnificent, “here, lay down, Sammy.”  The angel backs up, a tide of drool and precum spilling from his slack mouth as he comes off Sam’s dick, and Sam reluctantly clambers up on the bed, his long frame lying in the middle of the barely-adequate mattress.  It’s really too small for three six-foot or more men, but it’s the biggest bed in the Bunker, so they’ll make it work.  Dean guides the angel back over Sam’s dick, Sam losing his breath as soon as he sinks back in to that viscous heat, and Dean kneels beside Sam’s ribs, watching Sam lose everything else.

 

            _Cryin’ won’t help you_

_Prayin’ won’t do you no good, no_

 

Dean’s always loomed inexorably on Sam’s horizon, like the Sun.  Life-bringer to Sam’s sphere of existence, why should it be any different now?  Couldn’t stop his descent into Hell, couldn’t stop Gabriel from murdering him over and over and over, couldn’t stop Metatron from sinking the First Blade into his chest, he should just stop trying to _save_ Dean. Dean does the saving around here, always has.  And besides, he looks so _happy_. Dean swings one leg over Sam’s chest, straddling him and rubbing his dick low-key between Sam’s pecs.  He leans down, cupping Sam’s cheeks and whispers, “I _am_ happy,” he hovers that perfect mouth millimeters from Sam’s, “I love you, Sammy.”  Sam’s brain gives one last dying chug of _he doesn’t even know what love means anymore_ before Dean’s lips seize his in a scalding kiss that wipes his hard drive back to factory settings.  Sam Winchester’s big brain snaps like dry kindling and he groans into his brother’s mouth as he comes down an angel’s throat.

 

            _All last night, sat on the levee and moaned_

 

            Dean smiles and moves down Sam’s body, fingers trailing fire as he goes.  Sam’s still hard as Dean moves out of the way for Castiel to sit on Sam’s cock, still slick with saliva and the barest traces of his own seed, the same seed Castiel is wiping off his chin and licking off his fingers.  Dean comes back around to sit on Sam’s chest, so he can kiss Cas.  Sam grabs his hips and drags him up where his tongue can reach, prying his ass apart and licking a broad stripe from taint to asshole and starts flicking his tongue over his brother’s perfect pink pucker, which only faintly tastes of sulfur, it’s really not that bad.  Dean groans lowly and shoves his ass harder onto Sam’s face, hands holding onto Cas’ shoulders so the angel can use one hand on his own cock and one hand one Dean’s. 

 

            “Open me up, little brother, gonna ride you after our angel,” Dean rumbles.  Castiel bounces faster at that, little whimpers of ‘Sam’ and ‘Sammy’ and ‘fuck, so good’ escaping his swollen lips.  Sam plants both feet on the bed and Cas leans back, holding on to Sam’s knees as he rides faster, down to grunts and gasps of what sounds like ‘Dean’.  Sam’s starting to lose focus as he feels his orgasm burning through his spine and Dean’s there in a second, leaning across Sam’s stomach to grip the base of his cock between his thumb and first two fingers, “Nuh, uh, Sammy, not yet.”  He sucks Cas’ bobbing cock into his mouth and the angel screams and clamps down on Sam’s throbbing dick, hips thrusting between the two sources of his destruction with sighs of ‘ungh’ and ‘ah’.

 

            _Going down-Going down, now_

_Going down-Going down, now_

 

            Dean is hovering over Sam’s dick, knees framing Sam’s hips as Castiel opens him up, kneeling between Sam’s knees.  Dean is also licking and sucking every inch of Sam’s chest and stomach he can reach.  “Don’t know how I…resisted this…for so long…baby brother…so fucking hot…like every wet dream…ever…in the world…hot fucking angel buddy with us all the time…been so stupid…wasted so much time…beautiful…perfect…both of ya…fuck, yeah, angel, ungh! Right there, don’t stop!  Fucking gorgeous…gonna ride you ‘til ya blow, Sammy…then ‘m gonna open your little virgin ass…shove big brother’s cock right in there…fuck you hard and dirty…while angel boy fucks your mouth…that’s good, angel, lube him up…”

 

              _Don’t it make you feel bad?_

_When you’re trying to find your way home you don’t know which way to go?_

            Sam’s dreaming about Dean again.  Dean on his dick, riding him, rambling the filthiest shit possible as he sweats and squeezes and growls and God, it’s perfect, best dream he’s ever had.  “Not a dream, little brother,” Dean grinds out as Castiel lowers his astonishingly purple cock to Sam’s lips.  How the Hell is it so _dark_ , Cas is so _pale_.  Castiel groans and whimpers, “The Novaks are of Eastern European descent,” like that explains it.  Dean wrenches Castiel’s face around so he can plant a sloppy kiss that’s more like a tongue bath, muttering, “You’re so smart, baby, love that.”  And Sam concentrates on swallowing as much of Cas’ uber-purple dick as he can so he doesn’t come before Dean says.

 

            _Mean old levee, taught me to weep and moan_

_Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home, oh well, oh well, oh well_

 

            “Come in me, baby brother…come on…fill me up,” and, God help him, Sam does.  Happily.  An angel of the Lord anoints him with his holy load when he opens his mouth to scream his brother’s name.

 

            _If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s going to break_

 

            Someone’s dick is stretching him out and he’s going to shatter into a million pieces if this keeps up.  “Stop fucking clenching, Sammy!  Goddamn it!  Angel, get in here and suck his dick so he’ll relax a little.”  Grumbling off to Sam’s left.  “No! I wanna see his face when he comes on my dick!  _I’ll_ suck your dick when I’m done here, okay?”  The sharp sound of a hand swatting someone’s ass.  “ _Fine! Fine!_ I’ll fuck you next, then, would you just-“ and Sam’s dick is once again engulfed in the torrid cyclone of Castiel’s mouth, “Good…yeah…open up, baby brother…fuck, yeah, that’s perfect…ungh…all of it…take it all…ahhh, there we go…ungh…ungh…mmm…angel, you gotta get in here next…yeah, fuck, so tight…like a damn vice, this kid…not gonna…fucking last like this…faster, angel…use those teeth, bet he…ungh, fuck…bet he likes that, too…fuck, hold on, Sammy…gonna…go harder now…gotta…there, like that…just…like…that…here we go…”

 

_When the levee breaks, mama you got to go_

            “That’s…okay…angel…fuck…yeah…want ‘im…to come… _ungh_...on my dick…Sam…Sammy…look…look at me…come on…” Sam looks down at his body, long legs folded back almost to his neck, Cas kneeling next to him, stroking that stupid pretty purple dick of his, his own dick hard as a rock and bouncing with every rocking thrust, smacking into the puddle of precum (or maybe it’s the angel’s spit, who cares) above his belly button over and over, his brother’s corded forearms, veiny hands squeezing bruises into the backs of his knees, and Dean, eyes green (for now), snarling (I’m not fucking snarling!) smiling down at him.  “That’s…it…yeah…ya gonna come…huh, Sammy…come for me…yeah…yeah…of, fuck, Sam…yeah,” and Sam flies apart, pieces soaring into the stratosphere and sucking back down, all together, on his brother’s cock, down, down, tighter and tighter, imploding into a black hole and Dean is roaring the room down, a 9.0 (come on, that’s a 10, easy) on the Richter scale and Sam is gone.  Fade to black (sweet Metallica reference, kiddo).

 

 

 

            “You came over the top of him like a goddamn tickertape parade, angel!  That was hilarious,” Dean snickers as Castiel rides him slowly, both holding each other tight as Cas murmurs something in Enochian.  “Yeah, I remember…look, he’s awake.” Cas grumbles something else. “Okay, but hurry up, now.” And the bed bounces Sam a little harder, Castiel calling out a moment later as Dean grunts into his shoulder and watches Sam watch them.  He grins wolfishly as he gently tosses Castiel off his lap and crawls the few inches over to Sam to kiss him ravenously and Sam groans into it, hands going up to card through Dean’s hair.  When he pulls back to look down at Sam, Cas is there, running his hands through Sam’s hair, pulling the tangles straight.

 

            Dean looks adoringly up at their angel taking care of Sam, “Mmmm, lovely…Hmm…I want some bacon,” Cas’ fingers stop moving in Sam’s hair, “Sam, think you can throw some clothes on and make me some?  You hungry, Cas?  I’m fucking starving.”

 

            “You can’t be,” Castel breathes at the same time Sam asks shakily, “De? Did you just call him ‘Cas’?”

 

            Dean looks between them, confusion clear on his face, “Well, I am, okay!” he snaps at Cas before turning back to Sam, “Yeah I called him ‘Cas’.  That’s his fucking name, isn’t it?”

 

            “Demons don’t get hungry, Dean,” hands tightening in Sam’s hair, pulling him up.

 

            “You haven’t called him by his name since you turned,” Sam said flatly, scooting back toward Castiel to relieve the pressure on his scalp before he pulls a double fistful of Sam’s hair out by the root.

 

            “What the fuck you mean? I’ve been calling him by his name this whole time!” Dean yells at Sam.

 

            Cas makes a weird little strangled choking noise against Sam’s shoulder blade, “Dean, your arm.”

 

            Dean and Sam both look at Dean’s right forearm, where the skin is sweaty and perfectly clear.  Dean holds both his arms out, he and Sam looking stupidly from one arm to the other.  Dean starts shaking.

 

            “Oh, Jesus, Dean, oh my God!” Sam says excitedly.  Castiel is trembling against his back so he hauls him around and into his lap, “Look, Cas, look!  We did it! Can you fucking believe it?!” Sam squeezes Castiel hard in his joy and the angel squeaks a little until Sam eases up.

 

            Dean backs up until he nearly falls off the bed, standing on shaking legs, still holding his arms out to Sam and Cas, “What… _What did you… **FUCKING DO TO ME??!!**_ ”

 

            Sam pulls Castiel with him as he flinches back at Dean’s outburst.  Cas buries his face in Sam’s chest as Sam whispers, “ _Dean_ , I…we…this is a _good_ thing-“

 

            “ ** _A good thing? A good fucking thing?? What the…DO YOU KNOW WHAT I’VE DONE? Do you have any…fucking clue?_** ”

 

            “Dean, you weren’t-“

 

            “Sammy,” Dean says, suddenly calm, which is the absolute scariest thing Sam has ever seen in his life.  Cas nods in agreement against Sam’s skin and he can feel tears pouring down his chest from Cas. “If you finish that sentence, I will punch you in the _fucking_ face.”  Dean breathes deeply in through his nose, then blows it slowly out his mouth, “I’m fucking breathing…” he marvels, then laughs, a horrible scattered thing that sends goosebumps racing up and down Sam’s arms and lifts the small hairs on his neck.  Cas mutters an ‘oh God, Sam’ where his face is pressed against the younger Winchester.

 

            Dean looks down at his arms again, considering them for a full minute, then lunges toward Sam and Cas.  Cas jumps clear, but Dean gets ahold of Sam’s foot, dragging him down the bed while trying to crawl up his younger brother’s leg.  “Kill me, Sammy,” he hisses.

 

            “Wha-what?  Dean, why-“ Sam stammers, trying to shake Dean’s death grip on his foot, then his thigh, coming closer until Dean is _right_ there, his face inches from Sam’s and contorted in a mask of anguish.

 

            “I’m a fucking **_monster_** , Sam!” he screams, spittle flying, jaw twitching and popping, teeth gnashing, “Do your _fucking_ job and **_fucking KILL ME!!!_** ”

 

            Sam glares back at him, not even flinching, “Cas, go get some rope,” he says calmly, and Cas disappears.  Dean’s face falls, and his eyes widen as he registers Sam’s words.  Sam grabs his hands and flips them both, until he’s sitting on Dean’s hips, his arms pinned in Sam’s iron grip on either side of his head against the filthy mattress.

 

            “Let me fucking go, Sammy,” Dean grinds out, writhing and trying to wiggle his way out from under Sam.

 

            “NO! Dean, we’re not gonna kill you!” Sam says through gritted teeth, “We just got you _back_!”

 

            Dean stills abruptly, making Sam narrow his eyes and tense, tightening his hold on Dean with hands and knees, ready for whatever Dean’s cooking up.  “I can’t believe you’re holding me down in the _wet spot_ ,” Dean’s face crumbles into the look of utter insanity, his head going loose on his neck with a lunatic laugh that sent chills down Sam’s spine and he has time to wonder if this was what he’d been like after getting his soul back from the Cage before Cas is back, looping sisal rope around Dean’s wrists.  He doesn’t even fight, just lies there as Sam sits up and lets Castiel tie him up, screeching with laughter, “Get it, Sammy?  The _wet spot_?  Get it?  Oh, come on! Cas, you get it, right?”  But all Sam hears is that _fucking_ song…

 

            _Going down-Going down, now_

            _Going down-Going down, now_

_Going down-Going down, now_

_Going down_

_Going dow-, dow-, dow-, down, now_

**Author's Note:**

> Going to work now  
> Conclusion tomorrow, I swear


End file.
